


Identity

by pensversusswords



Series: YOI Collab Team #9 - Deity AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Deities, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, First Meetings, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Prince Viktor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is Eros, the god of sensual love, and yet he has never fallen in love himself.Prince Viktor Nikiforov is about to change that.





	Identity

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part of a collaboration I did as part of the YOI Collab game. My team was amazing and I absolutely loved working with them. Be sure to check out the rest of the series with all my teammates' works!

Yuuri stands before the great hall in the Nikiforov palace, staring at the great double doors that are the only barrier between him and the ballroom on the other side. Through the door he can hear the muffled sounds of festivities taking place; music and laughter dulled down to a joyous hum.

It’s been years since Yuuri has been to a ball, which was completely intentional. If he weren’t here to fulfill a duty, he wouldn’t be here at all.

He doesn't normally do this. He would go mad if he had to oversee every match he made; there are so many that their faces clutter his mind, centuries of lovers who found each other because of Yuuri. No matter what the outcome of their romance, Yuuri remembers; some of them found their way into each other’s arms while others did not. Some were torn from each other, screaming and with agony unfurling from them and radiating out into the universe. Yuuri felt each loss with a dull ache in his heart.

He knows them and he cares for them, but he rarely walks amongst them. The god they call Eros prefers to watch from afar, rather than meddle with the lives of humans. 

But this match is different. It's an important match, one that has the heaviness of politics weighing upon it. Yuuri could not make them fall in love, but he had every reason to believe that they would do that just fine on their own. They were not arbitrarily chosen for this match.

He reaches up to adjust his mask-one last nervous adjustment. It's black, set with pale glittering stones, the edges feathering out and upwards away from his face. It should hide his face nicely, on the off chance someone recognizes his face from the images in the temples. They likely wouldn’t, but the extra precaution makes him feel slightly better about his hidden identity and its continued secrecy.

Yuuri draws in a deep breath, and nods at the two guards who stand watch of the doors. They bow slightly, then turn to push the great doors open.

The full onslaught of the festivities spills out of the doorway and rushes over him as he steps inside. It’s just as he remembers it from the last time he went to a ball years ago; high ceilings ornamented with chandeliers glinting with crystal and gold casting their light down on the guests, all of them dressed in their finery, in waistcoats and ball gowns and precious stones accenting their already extravagant outfits. The air was filled with the aroma of fine delicacies and perfume, accented with a less pleasant odour that comes with many people dancing rigorously in an enclosed space.

Yuuri accepts when an attendant approaches him with a tray of champagne flutes. He takes the glass in his hand, lifts it to his lips and drinks deeply.

He drinks another directly after that.

It's not hard to find the two people he came to the ball to observe; it only takes a few minutes of wandering around the ballroom to find them. The princess Isabella and her suitor, the King Leroy of a neighbouring country, are, to Yuuri’s relief, already acquainted, and seem to be getting along just fine. Better than fine, in fact. She's clutching at his arm, beaming up at him, while he looks down at her like she's the only woman in the entire room. 

Yuuri smiles. They'd found each other on their own, it seems, and they were not in need of any help from Yuuri. 

He turns away then, and that's when he sees the prince, the guest of honour at this ball, the reason they have all gathered here in their finery to dance and drink and eat, then dance some more.

Prince Viktor is wearing a mask, just like everyone else in the room, but there’s absolutely no mistaking him for anyone but himself. That hair is unmistakably Prince Viktor's, that hair that has been the talk of the people since the little prince's silver head appeared at the King and Queen's side. You'd have to be blind to miss it.

The Prince is standing alone, leaning against a marble pillar with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the throngs of people on the dance floor and a small smile on his lips. He's lean and carries himself with an easy grace, elegant from head to toe. 

Yuuri thinks:  _a prince like him should never have to stand alone._

Then, nothing. 

Yuuri draws in a breath, sets his near-empty glass down on a nearby table. He's walking over before he even gets a chance to think about it, his feet moving of their own accord, drawn towards the Prince like a moth to a flame. 

“May I have this next dance?” Yuuri asks.

Prince Viktor blinks at him for a long moment, his blue, blue eyes assessing Yuuri carefully. Just when Yuuri is starting to feel the confident facade he's put on start to slip--nervousness starts to rise like bile in his stomach--Prince Viktor smiles, bright and wide. “Of course!” he says. “Who would I be if I refused the most beautiful man in this entire palace?”

“I don't suppose it's possible to dance with yourself,” Yuuri says, his voice level but the words a little too fast, for fear he might lose his nerve before he gets to the end of his sentence. “So you'll have to settle for me.”

Prince Viktor’s eyes sparkle as he laughs in surprise, the sound musical and absolutely delighted. He takes the hand Yuuri holds out to him, his long, elegant fingers sliding across Yuuri’s palm before folding Yuuri’s hand in his grip. “I don't say anyone has ever _settled_ for you.”

“Who are you?” Prince Viktor asks. He allows Yuuri to slide one arm around the curve of his waist. What the Prince does next earns a startled, sharp exhale from Yuuri; once Yuuri has maneuvered them into position, the Prince steps even closer, until their nearly nose to nose. “I haven’t seen you before,” he says, and now he’s standing _too_ close, his blue eyes fixed intently on Yuuri.

Yuuri swallows thickly. “Haven’t you?”

Prince Viktor smiles, eye’s sparkling. Oh, that smile is not good for Yuuri’s heart.

“No,” Prince Viktor insists with surety. “I could never have missed you.”

Yuuri doesn't answer. His eyes fix on the space just over Viktor's shoulder. “I’m no one.”

“You feel like someone to me,” Prince Viktor responds, pointedly squeezing his hand.

Yuuri lets out a small laugh. “This is a masquerade ball,” Yuuri says, “isn’t the point that we aren’t meant to know each other’s identity?”

A smile pulls at one corner of Prince Viktor’s mouth. “Have I managed to keep my identity from you?”

In a bold, thoughtless moment, Yuuri reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from the Prince’s face. “Something might have given you away.”

Prince Viktor laughs, bright and delighted. Yuuri feels the sound deep in his own belly. "I'll have to dye my hair next time," the Prince says, "to better conceal my identity." 

"No," Yuuri says, too quickly. The Prince's brows raise in surprise. 

"I-I mean," Yuuri manages before he pauses, scrambling for what he ought to say next. "It would be a shame to cover up that colour."

Prince Viktor tilts his head to one side. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," Yuuri says honestly. "It's beautiful," he continues, quieter, the words leaving his mouth on a soft breath. 

To say Viktor beams at Yuuri's words would be an understatement. 

 _I live amongst the gods,_ Yuuri thinks, the thoughts unbidden, _I have seen more wonders in my time than you could comprehend. And yet you are somehow the most beautiful thing I've ever seen._

Yuuri doesn't say that. He just stand there, holding the Prince in his gaze. 

The Prince startles him then; stepping back and out of Yuuri's arms without warning. He looks at Yuuri with an expectant look written across his features, and holds out a hand to Yuuri, his slender, elegant fingers unfurling in an invitation. “Come with me?” he asks, “I have something I'd like to show you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Viktor then takes Yuuri into his secret garden (no innuendo intended, I swear), which will be continued with the next writer in this series!
> 
> Come join me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/pensvsswords) or [tumblr](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/)!


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